Dupuis grinned. “The Daicrypta has spent decades perfecting the practice of demon capture and command. We have seen fit, in some instances, to share what we know with the Alliance.”
“I thought the Alliance and Daicrypta weren’t on friendly terms,” Ingrid said. Nolan and Vander had drawn their swords when Constantine had mentioned the Daicrypta in the sewers.
“They needn’t be friendly in order to be useful to one another,” Dupuis answered.
“So the Daicrypta decided to show the Alliance how to capture demons, hold them prisoner, and then give them orders to kill people?” Ingrid asked.
Dupuis bowed his head, a smile playing on his lips. He steepled his fingers together in front of his chest.
“Mademoiselle, do you really think us so vile? My purpose in life is not to hunt and destroy. I leave that to the majority of the Alliance.”
Carrick sealed his mouth into a tight grimace.
“It would be ignorant to reject the demon reality. They are among us and will continue to be among us,” Dupuis said, coming farther into the room. He turned to admire the tapestry nearest him while he continued to speak. “No amount of blessed silver can close the rift between our world and the Underneath. Accepting demons and learning from them—specifically, how to control them and bend them to our will—is the educated way to deal with them.”
Carrick had kept his eyes fixed on a corner of the room as Dupuis had spoken. His fists were clenched, his expression granite. He and Dupuis were definitely not friends.
“I still don’t understand. You voted to have me killed. You released the mimic demon. And yet last night Chelle told me that you were desperate to align Grayson and me with the Alliance. Why?”
Carrick sighed. “It’s difficult to explain. In short: I changed my mind. But by then, the mimic was already hunting you. I don’t want you to die, Lady Ingrid. With the raw electrical power you generate, you could become one of the Alliance’s most valuable hunters. Once your angel’s blood is destroyed, Axia and her Harvest will no longer threaten our realm, and you will be useful to the Alliance, not a hazard. Of course, my decision to save you will cost me my life, and I wanted things under way while I was still here to manage them.”
Ingrid wanted to scream in confusion. “But they still want me dead?”
“Right now, yes. Make no mistake, Lady Ingrid. My agreement with Dupuis is not authorized by the Directorate,” he said, fists still locked, the skin at his knuckles blanched. “I did vote for your death. I did release the mimic. I thought it was my duty.”
He flexed his fingers. “I wasn’t always a member of the Directorate. I was a fighter, like my son. I believed in the Alliance and what I thought was its mission: to eradicate demons from the face of the earth.”
His body lost its tension bit by bit as he spoke, and as he loosened up, more words flowed.
“When I did ascend to the Directorate, I saw a new side of the Alliance. Intrigue, politics, deception. None of which I liked, but I quickly learned that once you become a part of it, there is no leaving.” Carrick paused to meet her eyes. “Mine was the final vote cast. Had I broken from the total accord, my fate would have been sealed just as yours had been.”
Ingrid parted her lips, stunned. They would have killed him? She didn’t know the Alliance at all.
“You changed your mind, though,” she said. Carrick nodded, the motion slowed by some invisible weight.
“I couldn’t hold with it. The death of an innocent young girl might be acceptable to the other members of the Directorate, but it isn’t to me. I’m a man of honor. Of integrity. In my soul, I’m a fighter, not a politician. The Alliance is supposed to uphold certain morals.” He reached up with his hand and made another tight fist. “Using a demon—the very thing we hunt—to slay a human girl is beneath us. It’s beneath me, and yet I did it.” He threw his hand down. “I’m ashamed, Lady Ingrid.”
He was. She could feel the burn of his shame with every word. Still, it had come to him too late, and it was definitely too late for her to forgive him.
“How has luring her here saved her?” Marco asked. “It looks to me as though you’ve only taken my human from certain death to very likely death.”
Dupuis parted his lips to speak, but Carrick cut him off.
“The Alliance has never succeeded in capturing a mimic. The one I released had originally been captured by the Daicrypta.”
“They are exceptionally tricky,” Dupuis said, that unsettling little smile still on his lips. “When Monsieur Quinn asked for my help, I gave it … on one condition.”
Ingrid imagined that Dupuis required some sort of payment. Not money, however. By the state of their accommodations, she didn’t think they needed it.